


Lost are his thoughts

by jyuubi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Uchiha Sasuke, Cheesy and corny lol, For the most part, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, NaruSasu - Freeform, One Shot, POV Uchiha Sasuke, Romance, Top Uzumaki Naruto, Touch-starved Uchiha Sasuke, blowjobssss, let's pretend sakura got over sasuke super early on and just supports the two of them, mostly romance, over emphasis on sasuke not understanding, self indulgent, why naruto only thinks of them as friends after their VoTE battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyuubi/pseuds/jyuubi
Summary: Really, to Naruto, was he just a friend?
Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 47
Kudos: 99





	Lost are his thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Gab and D for fueling a good percentage of the motivation to write this. Unbeta'd!

Sasuke skims over the piece of paper he pinched between his thumb and forefinger. The thing is crumpled and a little old, his messenger hawk’s claws nearly tearing it, weak and wearing thin with every stroke he thumbs across it. 

It’s not often Sasuke replies to Naruto’s letters, despite the comfort he wholeheartedly feels from them. And for the most part, they know Naruto’s alright with it, because he knows that Sasuke isn’t as courageous when it comes to putting down feelings on paper. 

It was simple. They knew. He knew, Naruto knew, and Naruto laughed. 

_On paper_ meant Naruto would never let go of it, hide it from him and tease him about it when the time comes, never let him live it down. Most of all, _on paper_ meant there could be so little leeway to interpret it— or stupidly enough, sending a letter when he’s so far away would provide ample time for Naruto to set his brain to work and understand, no matter how cryptic he got. 

It’s happened before, and now Sasuke’s set a rule to never, _ever_ try to code his words again. Being accused of being cheesy was worse than actually being cheesy, even more with how the guy that’s calling you cheesy is the real cheesy one, and though he might accidentally try to gaslight Naruto— _you’re delusional, Usuratonkachi. I never said that—_ Naruto would only pull up the receipts, wasting his money on film to take a picture of the two letters Sasuke had so regretfully sent. 

The film would fall out from the folded page, and land by his feet in shame. He could practically hear the echoes of Naruto’s laughter, maybe Sakura’s snickering, their amusement a condescending whisper that loomed over him. 

Everlastingly, Naruto was sending Sasuke letters like Sasuke had sent one back every time, beginning or ending with “ _I miss you too,”_ or, and Sasuke’s grossed out to admit, _“I wish you were here too.”_ It didn’t fail to set his face to a twitch, because there was no way he’d smile stupidly at something like that, even if he was alone. 

He still did.

What’s even worse, though, is how it didn’t apply the other way around. Naruto didn’t care what spilled out his mouth or what he put in paper, never a draft and never any double-take, and it didn’t matter, because whatever he said was always true, a dauntless show of emotion, and it pricked him insistently, making him read over the words again and again because to a degree, Naruto being relatively poetic didn’t feel like a Naruto thing to do. 

The content in this little sheet of paper he can easily destroy, too, made Sasuke struggle. To read and to swallow, because it was so damn _corny._ Littered with Naruto’s scribbles, swirls and sakura flowers taking half the space, a smudged tomato sitting by the corner, all the more made this thing harder to eye. 

It makes him question, again and again, relive the time he’d spent on the ground, matching arms; blasted gone and spilling blood. If this was what the extent of Naruto’s _friendship_ was, his hesitancy to accept Naruto’s reasons for ever trying so hard for him was a reasonable reaction. 

He can’t— he can’t take this— his _heart_ can’t. It’s foreign. It’s a strange sensation. But still he runs his gaze over it, reading, legs jerking slightly; nervous and dizzy due to the blond’s obscurity, and more reasons he doesn’t want to word— reason’s he _can’t_ word. 

One thing’s for sure, though: this is the worst one he’s gotten. 

_The sun, the moon_ _???? your sun, my moon_

_the thought of you plagues all of my waking hours (in a good way),_

_when the sun’s oranges and the sky’s blues mold, <\- us_

_to when the sun and the moon reign the skies in their own accord,_

_w_ _hen_ _when the lights wither weak and the dark ascends,_

_to my sweet dreams, you came along._

_sai helped me but don’t fall in luv w him please, i did most of it. ( i know it isn’t that good but i tried for u )_

_anw… i miss u too, sas. hehe. i spend most my time in a classroom w iruka and kakashi-sensei that i end up teasing them abt getting married for entertainment bc they wouldn’t let me rest :( i’m good when i think of u tho, that lil bastard face of urs always makes me happy. hope to see u soon, don’t run away again :)_

No matter how difficult that poem was to read, once it settled, it wasn’t difficult to believe he’d accidentally eaten a whole swarm of butterflies; the perpetual fluttering in his stomach threatening to tear into his lungs and climb his throat. He could only hope that Naruto reacted to that one or two letters of his like he did to all of Naruto’s, and it was a selfish thought, but his feelings can’t convince anyone otherwise. 

Breathless. He’s utterly breathless. 

He wants to crumple this paper, shred it and eradicate it, but he’d instinctively turned on his Sharingan at the thought of possibly forgetting about it; even when his memory had already instantly burnt each and every single shittily written letter, every desperately formulated sentence into his brain and heart and soul. Damned photographic memory. 

Sasuke doesn’t know what’s pushed their relationship to this point, can’t exactly choose the turning point, because their relationship definitely felt more of a long accumulation of tension— from the more-than-friends feel of adolescence, eventually painfully simmering into something dare he say more… close. It’s a painful idea to grasp, so he doesn’t try, just forces himself to feel these feelings because he just can’t get rid of them. 

It’s also why he can’t seem to bring himself to stay too long in Konoha, the same reason why can’t stay away; a love-hate relationship with this nearly virulent longing, despite the numerous reasons he could use to hate— to stay away from the god-awful village. He doesn’t _want_ to be here. 

Yet he’s here today. To rest for a week. Maybe two. He was… he was nearby, alright? 

The letter he’d gotten from Naruto haphazardly shoved into the depths of his pocket. It’s with the hitai-ate Naruto had thrusted into his hand before the first time he left, and under his cloak his hand remains unseen as he thumbs over it. The wretched thing had never left his person since, and to this day he hasn’t considered ever letting go. He has a bag, slung across his shoulder, where all of Naruto’s letters, too, had yet to leave his grasp. 

It’s been twenty months, give or take a week since he’d been in Konoha. He skipped his birthday, worried with Naruto’s and Sakura’s capabilities to force him to do things, and they didn’t need another reason to get him out there. But past his birthday or not, it didn’t mean Sasuke wouldn’t get a surprise, and though it wasn’t reserved for him— or intended for him, there was certainly an ugly pull to wish that it was. 

The gift itself, well… Naruto had grown since he’d left, and so has Sakura, but… well, Naruto. 

…

He’d gotten tall. 

Then, _disgustingly hot,_ and the women that had chosen to flock this war hero were less shameful when expressing their opinions. They had just entered a large path, and here Naruto was. Busy. 

As he observed the commotion, Sasuke took a pause— not like he wanted people to crowd him, and he didn’t care for his own looks, he convinced himself— he knows he still looks good, it’s just that the lack of respect to his space had transferred to Naruto, so _what was with this ticking in his head?_

It’s the same persistence and disbelief he feels when Naruto declares just why he can’t let Sasuke go. Sasuke tries not to wither into himself as Naruto practically soaks up all this womanly attention before remembering he wasn’t originally alone. 

“Eh,” he hears Naruto sigh, tapping a hand that so carelessly landed on his arm. The blond looks over his shoulder at him and Sakura, smiling sheepishly. Sasuke keeps his face blank, but he can feel Sakura’s shoulders shaking in amusement. 

The idiot looks over at the girls, “I’m busy, guys. Another time?” 

When Naruto finally tries to pull away from them, albeit hesitant, Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief. That feels a little too loud. He nearly slaps himself for it, because now he could see the smirk Sakura’s formed in his peripheral. She knows, dang it, and now it feels like she’s got leverage on him when really he’s only overly self-conscious. 

Naruto doesn’t hear it, though, so Sasuke doesn’t acknowledge her, only following Naruto’s movements as the blond approaches them, the girls fussing slightly before eventually letting him pull away. 

“What’s so funny, Sakura-chan?” Naruto squints at her, “Is my misery hilarious to you?” 

But Sasuke can’t help the scoff that spills out. 

Naruto turns to him. “What?” 

“Misery?” He echoes, trying to go for a save. He did find Naruto’s general misery amusing, but _this?_ Maybe not. Maybe more annoying. 

Now the two of them— Naruto and Sakura— are smirking, and maybe he doesn’t fear the thought of Sakura reciprocating the punch he wants to throw. At her. And especially Naruto.

“Jealous?”

He cocks a brow. “Of what?” 

“Of me, duh.” 

Naruto’s grin widens, leaning closer, and Sasuke doesn’t lean away like he first used to, eyes pressing thin in suspicion. 

“Why would I be?” 

“Sasuke here no longer getting all the attention he used to get.” 

“I’ve never wanted them, anyway.” _It’s not their attention I want,_ and it remains unsaid, but the weight of it is there. 

Sakura is probably cringing beside them. She was once one of those girls, pestering, gushing over him when he had so clearly not reciprocated the same intrigue. For years. Time and energy and love mostly wasted, useless amidst the battles they were forced to endure. 

He’s mirroring the challenge, and he doesn’t miss how Naruto’s gaze drifts to his lips. Conscious, he swipes his tongue across them, wondering why exactly Naruto was pushing this, and why he can only half-heartedly want it to stop. Fuck’s sake, they’d gotten this close multiple times, and till now he hasn’t developed the urge to pull away. 

“Or perhaps, the g—”

_“Aaaalright,_ babes,” it’s Sakura who cuts in between them, and Sasuke swats her hand away. She rolls her eyes. “Enough, enough, I’m still here. You can take whatever you want to take within walls, _later,”_ she waves her hands in front of Naruto, flicking her wrist as he shoos him away, “Come on now, Ayame-san has a special prepared for us.” 

Naruto pauses briefly, blinking at Sasuke. They don’t bother with Sakura’s comment, Sasuke scowling slightly when the two of them eye each other. 

“Oh, you’re right,” Naruto chuckles, and he turns to Sasuke once more. “We can’t miss that.” He steps away with a grin, shrugging at him and throwing his hands behind his head. He turns nonchalantly, and leads their way to where Sasuke assumes is the new Ichiraku. The blond is mindlessly humming, and the grip Sasuke has on the items in his pocket tightens. 

Again, as he trudges behind the two, came the annoying pull. His gut twinges, but that’s stuck inside, so he can’t do anything about it, only glaring at the smug grin Sakura throws at him. 

—

“Oh no no no,” Naruto tugs on his cloak, and he stops like he had been put in the strongest hold. “You’re staying with me. Why would you stay in an _inn?_ You have no money.” 

Offended, Sasuke tugs his cloak from the blond. “I have money, Usuratonkachi.” 

“Dusen’ matter,” Naruto shrugs. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on, and I’ve got alcohol,” he smiles, and hidden within it is something they’ve both been keeping on the low since they’ve met eyes. “Besides… Don’t tell me you forget about the letter you—”

“Okay _._ No. Bye.” Sasuke glares, and God forbid he feels his face warming slightly, cheeks feeling taut against the frigid night, “I’ll be going to an inn.” 

Naruto has been less corny— much less corny than what he had shown in those letters, and it’s making him nervous. This somewhat serious-mature side of Naruto, as much as he knows he’ll appreciate it during battle, this isn’t something he wants to face in this context.

Then arose one of the things he’d been fearing since he’s got here: Naruto bringing up what they’d share in those awful letters. It, until now, felt like something they’d keep to themselves, despite knowing Naruto had easily spilled to Sakura. The heat of his face is really starting to feel uncomfortable, warm on a cold night. 

“Don’t make me recite my poem out here on the street, Sas,” the dumbass says, “I know you hate things like that. I’ve memorized every word, and I can sing it. I’ll _sing_ it.” 

“You’re _threatening_ me now?” He doesn’t want to take Naruto seriously, with how the idiot looked a moment from bursting into laughter, but it still feels risky. He can’t even bring himself to question Naruto’s ability to sing. Desperately, sounding baffled, he points out, “You know I can just disappear, right?” 

Naruto blinks. Then, he opens his mouth, _“My moon, your sun—”_ Naruto began, and Sasuke immediately leaps toward him, hand slapping onto his mouth. No, no, no— he isn’t going to let Naruto rehearse anything. Muffled, Naruto mutters, _“The thought of you—mffh— come unfh—”_

Naruto can embarrass himself right here, alone, right now, and it wouldn’t matter to him. The poem didn’t have his name, and what did it matter if it did, anyway? Sun and moon— orange and blue; _no,_ it didn’t damn matter that it didn’t take more than two brain cells to put who the sun and moon could be or what it could mean, when there’s a blond idiot and there’s him. He could disappear. Run away— he can run away. Naruto would look stupid, and it wouldn’t change anything for him— Sasuke’s always managed to survive this side of the dumbass. 

_Just go._

There are already onlookers, yet his hand remains on the blond’s mouth. Naruto’s fangirls are nearby, sitting in pause, thinking their blatant staring can’t be sensed as they’re halfway hidden behind the pillars. Looking at the blue eyes dimmed in the dark, he looks at the annoying, aggravating look with scrutiny. Questioning him— challenge him. 

Naruto’s smile molds against his palm, and Sasuke wants to relent. They’re embarrassing each other more than what Sasuke intended in the first place. 

_On paper_ was one thing. Actually saying it— this, Naruto would truly never forget. He can already hear Sakura’s laughter, looming over him condescendingly. Pushing him, telling him how stupid he’s being. 

With one final look, Sasuke sighs, and drops his hand. 

“Fine.” 

— 

“I’m surprised your house isn’t a pigsty,” Sasuke comments, stepping into Naruto’s apartment. It’s new and spacious, unnecessarily so, but he supposed Naruto at some point would want to indulge himself with bigger and better things. _War-hero money,_ he assumed, was used; one that he’d been offered too, because when your friend’s the other, more important, more significant war-hero, and the current Hokage was your teacher, you get off easily— even if getting off easy only meant not getting executed. 

_Missing-nin._ Hilarious. He was only thirteen. 

Balancing on one foot, he slips his slippers off. Looking on at the place was… it was eerily quiet; the echo-y type of quiet, making him feel self conscious as his slippers slap too loudly against the wooden floor. It felt too big, pale walls and large windows, the unsettling tidiness an ugly contrast to the Naruto he’s aware of. 

“Eh, not yet, probably. It’s a blessing how I manage to keep it clean. Clean enough.” The door behind them clicks shut. 

“Not yet?” Sasuke walks deeper into the room. The kitchen is out in the open, and there’s one door by the left to where Naruto’s bedroom probably is. He’s trying to keep his cool, almost turning on his Sharingan with how dark it is, even with the moonlight filtering into the room. A kotatsu table sits in the middle, the wooden table shiny, its edges gentle thanks to the blanket. Sasuke wonders if he accidentally sounds sour, knowing the potential all this space carries. Potential to… build a… yeah. _The F-noun._ “There’s enough space to prevent a mess.”

“Way more work-out space,” Naruto follows after him, shrugging as he throws his slippers off, arranging them by the door with his feet. He removes his hitai-ate, carelessly dropping it on the counter. “Or, not really. Just wanted something bigger, y’know? Now that we’ve got time, I want more space to collect more things than I’ve ever been able to collect. Even if I still have to go to class everyday for… Hokage things… And do Kakashi’s paperwork sometimes. It’s tiring, but since you’re here for the first time in forever, I’ve been given some free time.” 

Quiet follows, because he doesn’t really know what to say, and now Sasuke’s feeling even more jumpy. Naruto was doing that much? _Again?_ So easily? 

“Well?” Naruto calls from behind, sounding much too casual. The lights flicker on as Sasuke turns to him. “Go sit down,” Naruto shoos him away, but Sasuke struggles to find a place to sit. 

Does he just make himself comfortable in the man’s kotatsu? Sit outside it? He stands stiffly, Naruto remaining inattentive as the blond lumbers around the kitchen. “You like sake? Beer? Do you drink?” 

He has. Flavored sake and vodka with Suigetsu and Karin as Juugo sipped on juice, but that was hardly anything in that context. Sasuke had visited them once to apologize, though non-verbal, just helping them clean around the base— which was ultimately uneventful, the three of them forgiving him too easily. Well, that was until Suigetsu scowled at him, annoyed, spouting a good flow of insults before Sasuke had relented, giving him a reserved sorry. It’s a memory he lets into the front to try and calm himself, but it doesn’t work as well as he thought it would. 

“Sake,” he answers, tugging on his cloak as he explored the spacious room, looking at pictures he hasn’t seen in a long time, some he hasn’t seen at all. The photo of team seven stands innocently by one of Naruto’s cabinets, the same dark green frame hugging it neatly. It adds to the warmth that’s lacking in the room, contrasting the state of stiffness he’d held until now. 

There're three pictures— and Naruto goes from growling to smiling to a grinning in them, only one picture of which Sasuke’s in, the one they’d taken as Genin. The rest of the space was clean, a thin layer of dust beginning to accumulate. He’s about to pull a drawer open, see what’s inside, but Naruto invades him with his voice once more. 

“Sas?” Abruptly turning around, Sasuke continues to stand as Naruto places the bottle of sake on the table, mumbling, oblivious of how Sasuke jumped into attention. “The photos, huh? Those were long ago. You can get a copy— but y’know, you can’t. Maybe if you stayed in one place you could have one of your own.” 

He scoffs, “Maybe if you didn’t lead Pein to Konoha, I would still have a home.” 

Sasuke doesn’t fall for Naruto’s goading— not _too_ much, at least, only glaring at the blond. They’ve learned to somewhat joke with how they’ve reacted to their traumas; the adventure Sasuke had unwarrantedly pulled Naruto into too. 

Naruto laughs, keeling himself onto the floor and scooting himself into place. He taps the space to his left, slapping a pillow, clearly urging Sasuke close, “Konoha or not, you wouldn’t have a home, anyway.” 

Naruto settles the blanket over his lap, looking up at Sasuke when he pauses. Sasuke looks at him questioningly— what did he just say? 

Naruto’s eyes widen, and Sasuke thinks he looks stupid, waving his hands in front of him like that. But in truth, Sasuke doesn’t really care, and he’s trying to find the upper hand, grasp for something to keep Naruto on his level. Or lower. None of which was happening. 

“I meant. Not that way, Sas. I was in Mount Myōboku, and no one knew they’d attack that time,” Naruto says the instant he sees Sasuke’s change in expression, his fingers now rhythmically tapping against the wood. “I— we nearly lost everyone back then. We did, technically, but—” 

He sighs.

“…Just,” he then eyes Sasuke, smiling suspiciously, “It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m here, you have a home. And as long as you’re here, I—”

“Yeah, okay. Shut the fuck up,” Sasuke cuts him off, disgust curling his features. His hand fiddles with his pocket, squirming, because that really was cheesy, and it’s even more difficult to translate the fluttering in his stomach into something more suitable to what he and Naruto are. This was way different from Naruto than the letters; calmer, neater, but still corny, and he’s still figuring out a way to adjust. He glares, “Don’t say shit like that ever again.” 

Naruto laughs aloud, and he taps the space to his left once more. “Nope, I think I’ll keep at it. You get funny like this.” 

“I’m never talking to you ever again.” 

“Sure you aren’t,” Naruto laughs again, a barely stifled giggle as he rubbed his nose. He’s looking at Sasuke with stupidly bright eyes that Sasuke wants to poke out. “Now come, Sas. Sit down.” 

He sours at Naruto’s tone, but finally, Sasuke follows, seating himself across Naruto, snatching the pillow before slipping it underneath him, wanting to keep distance. The space he creates between them is quickly eliminated, however, Naruto frowns as he scurries around the kotatsu to sit beside him anyway. The blond then grabs the bottle of sake, passing a glass to him before tipping the ceramic bottle, clear liquid spilling into his cup. 

He watches the liquid flow, wondering what exactly he’d jumped into. 

—

“You’ve changed a lot, y’know,” Naruto’s voice is a gentle slur as he leans into Sasuke’s space. Not that close, but if Sasuke moves his hand a little too much to the right, it would no longer be free from Naruto’s warmth. He’s feeling a little delirious too, and it seems every time he looks up at Naruto’s eyes from the table, which was often; the still-empty apartment not having much to look at. The moon beyond the window was a running candidate, maybe, but that was boring. 

“How so?” He asks. Fuck, he’s moving too languidly, too easily, getting a little sleepy, and clearly Naruto is too. He had unclasped his bag, his shoulders loose. 

Their conversation mostly began with Naruto gushing about loving the idea of being Hokage, then simmering into something about the possibility of accidentally becoming Konoha’s whistleblower. 

Now, however, Naruto’s focused on him, him on Naruto, no longer updating each other with village-doings like they had did with Sakura. And the more focused they are on each other, the harder it is for Sasuke to simply mask his anticipation, his thigh occasionally brushing against Naruto’s knee. Warmth continued to flow over him, his cloak and the kotatsu keeping the heat in. He wants it off, but he doesn’t know if he could— or _should—_ at this point. 

“Your hair got longer,” Naruto says, the sake in his cup swirling. They’d gone through a bottle and a half already, and he’s drank more. Naruto’s looking at him with tired yet bright eyes. “You got some wrinkles too, heh.” Sasuke can’t fight the frown that shows on his face, mildly conscious of his face, and Naruto jumps at the sight. “See? Wrinkles by your eyes!” A tan hand reaches close, and Sasuke doesn’t move away. It’s Naruto’s left hand, the one he didn’t get to blast away, the warm thing grazing across his cheek before pulling his hair back and holding it behind his ear; not tucking.

“Oops, wrong side,” Naruto snorts, and Sasuke’s trying to process the warmth too close to his face. “Sharingan eye. Wanted to see your rinnegan— I don’t know how your hair does that, covering you so well. What shampoo do you use out there in the wild?” Nope, _nope,_ Sasuke thinks, and he slaps the hand away, and Naruto doesn’t look bothered, but he sounds annoyed, “What now?” 

“Stop that.” 

Naruto tilts his head, resting his chin on his palm. The corner of his lips quirk, and Sasuke glares at the twitching muscle. 

Dang it. He doesn’t like how Naruto’s playing him too easily like this. Playing him. _Playing him!_ What did _friend_ ever mean to this dumbass? _Give me a better answer, you fucking idiot—_

“Your sun, my moon,” Naruto leans closer, almost looking like he’s floating. 

Sasuke shivers, cringing and rolling his eyes, downing the rest of his sake. He feels muted, the alcohol impairing his senses, and it lets Naruto’s words wrap around his brain too easily; pushing him into the verge of short-circuiting. _Cheesy._ He can’t react as much as he did earlier on the street. 

“The thought of you plagues all of my waking hours. When the sun’s oranges and the sky’s blues mold—”

_To when the sun and the moon reign the skies on their own accord._

Selfish fucking jackass, reciting corny shit out to him so nonchalantly, unaware of just how Sasuke violently slams his cup on the table.

_When the light withers weak and the dark ascends._

“Stop, ” He tries to say again. His head feels hollow, the words a loud echo within him. Fuck, he’s memorized everything from the hideous writing to the tacky words. Forced to never forget. 

_To my dreams, you came along._

“What’d you think of it?” Naruto forces him to a pause, his right hand retracts from the table, burrowing its way under the kotatsu. When the heavy thing lands on his thigh, he doesn’t get to jerk away; its grip pushing him down. It seemed to be a subconscious movement, but still Sasuke couldn’t push it off. “It’s probably really messy— the letter— that was only my second draft. Your hawk was about to leave again, so I didn’t have time. How was it?”

“…It’s bad,” Sasuke answers, but the hesitance he let slip bites him back in the ass as Naruto’s tipsy smirk deepens. 

“You liked it,” Naruto smiles. “You liked it!” 

Sasuke doesn’t entertain that. No, he doesn’t like it, but he wasn’t immune to what it held. He keeps the scrutinizing look he has on Naruto, hand shooting below the blanket to land on the hand that had begun to climb his thigh, a reaction more of surprise than a call for pause. 

“…You’ve gotten really hot, y’know,” Naruto declares. 

Sasuke already knows. But receiving confirmation from Naruto still sends extra tingles to the tips of his fingers. He’s never cared about looks until now; an era where his battle strengthened hands have to come to play only when rebuilding fallen homes. With so much time for himself, he realizes just how much he’d lost as a person, a child being a child, to the hatred he had rightfully carried his entire life. Add to the constant fluttering in his stomach from the moment he’d spotted— _been spotted_ by Naruto when he’d entered Konoha— the inner him fucking roars. 

Don’t get him wrong. He still hates Konoha, or rather, can’t bring himself to truly care for it, but there are relationships in the awful place he wants to cherish, despite how said relationships have caused him pain too. And how he wants to solidify one of them, the toxicity that it had carried diluted into… _this._

Friends, they were _friends_ now. It took his arm and Naruto’s to be blasted off for him to at least give a chance in anything that wasn’t destruction. He was… angry, alright? And this roundabout-y Naruto wasn’t helping him feel any better. Especially not when he’s sort of edging the line between tipsy and just flat-out sober; overflowing with chakra, his actions still refused to align to his thoughts, because this was damn Naruto he was dealing with. 

He scoffs. “I know,” he agrees, and Naruto rolls his eyes, smirk not withering. 

“Cocky asshole.” 

Sasuke doesn’t break the gaze. He wants to take another shot of sake, but his one and only hand is keeping the hand on him from moving. “You’re one to talk.” 

“I only talk honesty.” Then, Naruto’s left hand raises once more, and Sasuke doesn’t stop the approach. The smirk fades off of the blond’s face.

_Played,_ he should feel. Naruto hasn’t declared them other than friends, and it continues to stick to his conscience— to his dignity, but he can’t act according to it. This sticky, syrupy warmth churning like sweet honey in his stomach. It feels too warm. Suffocating, even. Tempting. 

Instead of the hand pulling his hair back, it rakes across his scalp, trailing down to cup his nape. His gaze instinctually drops to Naruto’s lips, lone hand twitching against the bandaged one on his thigh; fingers suddenly curling against one another. Their fingers intertwine awkwardly. His breath is shallow, anticipation pulling his nerves. 

“You’re drunk,” Sasuke says, cautioned. He doesn’t move away from the hand on his lap, or the hand on his nape. He wants this. He just. It doesn’t feel fair, giving Naruto this high-road, letting him keep this advantage, leaving him this space to backtrack. 

Naruto stares at him, then his lips cocked at one side as he speaks, “You know I’m not.” 

He isn’t. Neither of them are drunk. Tipsy, barely, each of them left with the blessed ability to make rational decisions. _Rational,_ fuck; which they never were. Decisions, plenty. 

Then the grip at Sasuke’s nape tightens, the muscle there involuntarily stiffening as he’s pulled close. Their lips meet. A dam breaks, and with the force he easily gives in. He didn’t think he’d want this so bad, fingers intertwined with Naruto’s curling. His eyes flutter shut, his last view a blur of blond and Naruto’s lashes. 

And suddenly he’s pushed to the floor, hand free once more, scrambling to keep himself perched up on his elbow. Naruto is a dense presence above him, their chests nearly touching. That is before he hears a thud, and Naruto’s lips skidding off his. 

“Ouch,” Naruto cries, rubbing his side as he pulls away. Fucking dumbass, always so good at ruining the mood. “Ugh— I hit the corner.” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“I know.” 

Sasuke looks up at him, chest heaving, watching as Naruto maneuvers around the table, pressing a knee between the space of his spread thighs. 

Naruto is flushing, holding himself up on one arm. “Sas—”

“No.” 

He doesn’t want to hear it, because now he’s in the process of getting what he wants, and he can’t shut the idiot up without his hand. Thankfully, Naruto senses this apprehension, his own eagerness taking over him as he sweeps down to crash their lips together. Sasuke’s feet tingle, still under the kotatsu, but it’s no warmer than the rest of body— heat aching his body; breathing shallow and heart thrumming. 

He groans, lips parting, and Naruto takes the chance, tangling their tongues with this cocksure deftness; dragging him close with large hands Sasuke is surprised to feel palming against his sides, swift to spread his thighs, Naruto making a space for himself. He tires, lowering himself onto the ground, but Naruto only follows, hands exploring. Naruto tastes like diluted sake, and Sasuke’s sure he doesn’t taste any better; but it doesn’t stifle his hunger, keen to raise his hips to give access for Naruto’s hands to slip under his ass, grabbing the waistband of his slacks, tugging them down hurriedly. His feels his ass flatten against the smooth wood, underwear a thin save from his skin sticking to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, scooting back to make space for the blond. His cloak is ripped off, buttons plucked free, wind blowing across his now exposed collarbones, and Naruto’s hands fly across his chest, down to his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his torso. He trembles, his heat against the stale, cold air of Naruto’s apartment quickly replaced with Naruto’s radiating warmth. 

It’s fast, so fast, _too fast—_ and Sasuke can’t identify a feeling other than arousal and hints of self-pity, flickering against his skin and gathering at his crotch, hips tingling. _Shit,_ he didn’t know what he was doing, but all he’s filled with is impatience— _want._ _Desperate, desperate want._

Naruto isn’t any different, overeager, leaning close, letting Sasuke breathe as he rips his mouth away, but not giving himself the same luxury of air, pressing heavily onto Sasuke’s chest, biting at the flesh, nipping and marking across the pale planes of skin. How he circles around his nipples; how Sasuke finds himself wanting them touched, but he can’t verbalize it, hand grasping at blond hair. They arch into each other, Naruto bucking right in between his thighs, recklessly tugging his pants down, fabric stretching at the seams, bending his knee close to his chest to speed it up; leaving the cloth hanging by one leg. Something clatters on the floor, and Sasuke can only hope it isn’t the ceramic cups. 

Naruto places the pale limb onto his shoulder, testing the extent of Sasuke’s flexibility as he shoves their crotches together, the back of his thigh against Naruto’s clothed chest. _He feels it—_ Naruto’s length, trapped under layers of tightened clothing, brushing against his own that’s only protected by one, thinning and dampening cover, sliding by it. It feels thick, _warm,_ and he wants to feel more of it. He wants it closer— he wants Naruto closer, harder, crowded into him to the point they were one. 

They both cry out. Sasuke almost forgets how to breathe. He can practically feel their chakra mix, alcohol diluting; and he’s almost entirely sure that he’s no longer tipsy, and neither is Naruto, all controlled movements and sharp, angled thrusts. 

Naruto doesn’t give him time to adjust, swallowing all of his shallow exhales, his gasps. It’s just a few, messy thrusts, but Sasuke already feels himself weakening, sober mind screaming at him as he involuntarily arches closer; his heel slamming against Naruto’s back. 

He doesn’t feel skin against his foot. Clothed. _Clothed jackass,_ Sasuke thinks, _leaving him vulnerable on his own,_ and he pulls on Naruto’s collar. He pulls on the zipper, hand deft and smooth as he slides it all the way down, but another layer obstructs his view from the hard chest that had bumped into him only seconds ago. He tugs on that, too, but he can’t seem to get it off. 

“Shit, _shit,”_ Naruto gasps, and his voice smoothens with every syllable, and Sasuke can’t take it for something in the heat of the moment. “You’re so fucking hot, what the _fuck.”_

“Shut up, idiot,” he hates how he’s easily making an exception for this idiot. “Shut up and _move.”_

What is he thinking— no, fuck, he needs to stop himself, but his hand grasps at golden locks of hair. Too far gone, he is, and this is what he knows he can’t let go. He yanks Naruto close, panting against his ear words he didn’t think he’d ever have the opportunity to say, words he’s annoyed he knows he’ll only ever say to Naruto; 

“Fuck me.”

Naruto snaps. Thank fuck. He would’ve felt embarrassed, but there’s not enough leeway for that when he immediately receives a reaction. Naruto grunts into his shoulder, the hands on his hips gone for a moment. Naruto tugs his slacks down, and now both their crotches are only a layer from freedom. 

Naruto bucks into him, groaning, the air heavy with their heat. Sasuke can feel Naruto’s bulge just below his, intensely warm, the space between his cheeks, and a beastly, desperate hunger claws within him. Sweat slides down Naruto’s face, smearing against Sasuke’s neck. His bandaged hand lands on the outline of his length, and Sasuke gasps, hand clutching tightly at the roots of Naruto’s hair. 

“Can I?” Naruto asks, breathless and impatient, like he already knew the answer. Rough fingers hooked at the waistband of Sasuke’s underwear, fingers grazing his hips, pressing at the deep dips, and Sasuke’s eyebrows pinch in annoyance, because _yes, just fucking do it, yes._

“Usuratonkachi,” and he doesn’t like how breathless he sounds, “Do it.” 

“Sas, fuck,” and his briefs are pulled, both thighs flush Naruto’s abdomen as he tugs them off. His cock bobs into view, cold and sensitive as it grazed against his own thighs, and he grits his teeth, elbow hooked around Naruto’s neck. Instantly, a warm hand wraps around the base of his shaft, squeezing, testing, and Naruto pulls back as he arches into the touch, a shaky hiss spilling out his lips. 

Naruto releases him to grasp at his hips, pulling him up to his face with strength Sasuke almost feels ashamed to admit adds to the heat in his belly; the entirety of his length suddenly sucked into the tight heat of Naruto’s mouth. 

He cries out. With a gasp that could only be his, his body shakes, the abrupt motion too good for him to comprehend, thighs clamping around Naruto’s head. His shoulders and upper back are pressing against the hard, cold wood, torso lopsided as he scrambles for balance with his arm. 

_“W-What the f-fuck,”_ he gasps, shuddery, watching with lidded eyes as Naruto takes him to base. He almost cries— the onslaught of pleasure is difficult to adjust to. It’s sloppy, teeth grazing against sensitive skin, but it’s so _goodsofuckingsogood so. fucking. stupidly good,_ and Naruto doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. It’s toe-curling pleasure, and he wants _more,_ but he can’t move too much, can’t fuck into Naruto’s mouth; only taking and taking _and taking._

His stomach pinches tight, thick, heated honey flowing from his abdomen to his chest. He wonders if it’s gross, if _he_ feels gross in Naruto’s mouth, but he can’t bring himself to care; feeling as the tip of his cock hits the back of the man’s throat. He looks up at Naruto, and cerulean eyes are staring at him, intense and questioning, brows furrowed in focus. There’s a teasing hint to it, and fuck does Sasuke not miss the slight quirk of Naruto’s lips. 

He glares, but even he feels just how weak it was; useless amongst the plane of red his face had to be. _“What,_ Usuraton—”

He whimpers, and it should be a crime for humans to be given that ability; because _what forbidden fucking sound did he just make?_ He looks away just as Naruto releases him, tongue circling at his crown and dragging it across his shaft; the base of his cock in a tight grip between Naruto’s thumb and index finger. A hand palms at his ass, likely to keep him suspended, but he knows it wouldn’t change if Naruto did let go; thighs in a desperate grip around Naruto’s head, laid heavy on Naruto’s shoulders. Sasuke presses his eyes shut, if only to hide how they practically roll into the back of head, his hand twitching with nothing to grasp at. His heels dig into Naruto’s shoulder, thighs wanting to clamp close. 

Naruto bobs his head up and down, and fuck if he feels Naruto’s smile press against his hip every time they connect. Everything sounds wet and obnoxious, suction unrelenting and fierce. Fingers slip to his balls, fondling, thighs twitching spread slightly, instinctively providing more access. Then, the fingers slide lower, thumb grazing over his rim, up and down his perineum, then _pressing._ Pressing into something from the _outside,_ and it’s mind-blowingly delicious; heat thrumming across his body and ending at his ears. 

His eyes shoot open, uncaring of how they roll to the back of his head in a hot, delirious rush, and with his little leverage he thrusts into the heat, feeling himself tighten, core tensing. _Fuck, fuck, fuck;_ his brain is mushy yet blank, joints loose, uncaring of how he might have crushed Naruto’s skull. He releases right into Naruto’s throat with a choked moan, trembling against the hands on him; limbs going slack. He feels Naruto’s lips tighten at his base, milking his release, before his cock is plucked out, a slow, slick drag, tongue jolting out to lick off the continuing, weakening spurts. 

Finally, at the verge of oversensitivity, his hips are lowered onto the floor, and Sasuke throws his arm over his eyes, panting. His chest rises and falls, feeling more bare than he’s ever felt before, even when he still has his shirt partially on. 

…

Shit. _He’d just done that,_ he’s trying to process. He isn’t even sure if that was an experience he should’ve been allowed to have. 

The letters certainly didn’t entail any of this, and he isn’t so sure what to feel anymore. He can’t really think, relishing the afterglow, how his skin feels like it just went through an intensive spa session, taut and moist, the thought of having another go not so unpleasant. 

He sighs. Annoyance wants to plague into him, how he let himself do this, but he’s sleepy and a hundred times more languid. He could fall asleep like this, half-naked with his shirt bundled up around his neck. The air is cold against his steadily cooling skin, and he can’t find it in himself to be bothered to cover up, soft cock likely still in show and his ass left in the open.

Naruto is still hovering, hands massaging his hips. Sasuke can’t see him, but he can still feel how Naruto’s practically radiating with excitement— _amusement._

“How was it?” Naruto chuckles, slow and apprehensive, but the idiot’s voice is an echo to his brain, and it falls short as he tries to process how he sounds. “Good? Great?” 

“Fuck off,” Sasuke grunts. He feels a little guilty for not offering to help Naruto out, and he thinks of reaching out to the general direction of where Naruto’s dick could be, but a hand wraps around his wrist, peeling them off his eyes. 

“S’ fine,” Naruto assures, like he had heard his thoughts. Sasuke feels his shirt get tucked down, covering his torso. It should be humiliating, but he doesn’t care. “You’re sleepy. M’ sleepy.” 

He blinks, chest tightening. “…Your loss,” he says. Naruto laughs, standing up and leaving Sasuke’s line of sight. He hears a door slam shut, then the muffled stream of water. 

Yeah, right. 

…What was he going to do anyway? Give a weak tank of his own? He doesn’t want to dwell on how Naruto so easily let him go— one would think the idiot would be so insistent on coming, too. A wave of disappointment runs over him before he takes his hand back, letting it flop against his stomach. 

He reaches for his underwear, the fabric tickling by his knee, and slipped them on. Shrugging flimsily, his eyes flutter shut, legs cold, and before long, he falls asleep. 

—

There’s a stiff warmth against his ass. His thankfully _clothed_ ass, with another equally clothed stiffness. He didn’t think he’d actually put on clothes, bits of his memory hazy. His side aches, having pressed against the hard floor for… a period of time. Light filtered into the room, so much so that Sasuke’s worried someone might see them from outside, ceiling-to-wall windows not really hiding anything. But perhaps living rooms weren’t the best place to do… things. 

It’s warm. A comfortable, rare heat he hasn’t been able to feel in so long. Since forever. Since the last mission he’d taken with Team Seven, where he’d woefully set a sleeping bag beside Naruto, and slept with twigs digging into his back. 

Foreign. Almost disgustingly foreign. 

It’s a foreign feeling. It _feels_ foreign, even when he knows it’s entirely not. Cradled in the arms of someone you trusted— _this isn’t foreign,_ he’s just _forgotten,_ and if anything this raging familiarity simply twisted into something he didn’t think he’d want again. He doesn’t want it to sink in; just how easily he’d molded into Naruto’s touch. _It’s been so long,_ and this sudden exposure to it, this sudden yet easy process of him getting used to it— scratch everything. 

Sasuke wants to leave now. 

Even if he wants a better explanation, Naruto’s words a broken record that no longer aligned with this situation, _that never really did,_ he wants to leave.

He's curled up under the kotatsu, his head resting on Naruto's arm, another one over his shoulders, his back completely molded into Naruto's front, pinning him down, and it should be warm and all levels of comforting, but the urge to run away had never been stronger. 

He twists, he turns, more careless than one ought to be when trying not to disturb their surroundings. He doesn't want to acknowledge the tears that have begun to cloud his thoughts, heavy at the back of his eyes, squirming his way of Naruto's grip. He's holding everything in before it can spill, because he doesn't think Naruto deserves any more of his affection.

_Friend—_ they'd stay as friends, and with every passing second he's suddenly feeling even more and more played. Dread pulls his heart up to his throat, lungs robbed of its air. 

Naruto, the idiot who'd gone to each ends of the world and scoured every corner of every region just to get him back home, threw him into different heights of pleasure, only then to hold him above this fire of expectancy. 

He'd anticipated something new, something more filling, because not everything Naruto says can ever be taken literally. 

Nothing— he's given nothing, and it stings more than it should. Damn him and his expectations; waiting for those words that'll solidify what they have— what they should have, what he wants them to have. 

Before he can fully slip out of the kotatsu, his feet still in the warmth, a hand wraps around his ankle, and he jerks into attention, trying to move faster. He’s forced to a stop, however, his shin abruptly hitting the table. At least now he has a reason for the tears in his eyes. Which is pathetic, because they’re shinobi— and Naruto’s literally blasted his arm off, but— 

“Where are you going?” 

He internally flinches, “Away.” 

Naruto scoffs, but it mixes with his yawn. The idiot sounds too nonchalant, languid, pulling him by his ankle, only putting more strength into it when he tries to anchor himself. “Get back here.” 

He slams his foot flat on the wood, still scooting back, and soon the front of Naruto’s small sofa hits his back. He feels naked, seeing as Naruto is more dressed than him, and suddenly the air is cold against his skin; losing its remnants of Naruto’s warmth. He should just get up and walk away, because there’s no way he’s going to actually try and sway Naruto. There’s no such fight in him to push it, when it’s always been like this. 

The idiot would die for him— _as a friend—_ and so that meant giving him an intense blowjob was no more significant than risking your life for someone. 

“Are you— are you okay? S-Shit, wait, what did I do?!” 

He isn’t crying. He knows he isn’t; but damn this overly reactive… “Nothing, Usuratonkachi. Where’s—” he’s pantless, legs bare, and _where is the hitai-ate?_ “Where are my pants?” 

He hopes he doesn’t sound too panicky. Naruto doesn’t need to fucking know how well he kept it, even though he didn’t have a place to leave it in anyway; nearly two years of wandering almost aimlessly with that… thing, in his pocket. 

“You’re _leaving?”_ Naruto balks, crawling out to him. “No, you can’t leave now.'' Sasuke scrambles, trying to stand, but Naruto is quick to wake up and pull on both his ankles, pinning them on the ground as he crawled between his thighs once more. 

This clingy, obsessive dick. Sasuke looks away, but like usual, it doesn’t sway Naruto. “Hey, don’t, come on, don’t run away. Yesterday, we just—” 

“Shut. Up.” Sasuke grits his teeth. He isn’t going to talk about how he was just given the best blowjob of his life. The _only_ blowjob from Naruto, and perhaps the last blowjob he’s ever going to get. “Where is it?” _Where is the damned headband?_

“I’m not giving your pants back if you’re going to run away.” 

He glares at the blond, waiting. “…Seriously.” 

“Seriously.” 

This time, Naruto has inched closer, leaning close again. Leaning _too_ close, and Sasuke’s breath unhelpfully catches in his throat, following the movement. His eyes drop to Naruto’s lips, and it’s a slow, approaching presence that he can’t look away from. 

Sure enough, their lips touch, and again it’s the same touch he realizes again and again as something he wants. His lips are coerced open, and the heated muscle enters his mouth, sliding against his tongue. All the while, Naruto’s hands are climbing up his legs, and eventually one of them rests against his cheek and the side of his neck; guiding and domineering, the other by his hip, its potential tingling by his stomach. 

But when he feels Naruto’s bulge against his steadily rising one, he forces himself back, shoving Naruto away with a hard nudge to a broad shoulder. 

“What?” 

Sasuke sighs, trying to calm himself and his rising anger. “Why are you doing this?” 

Confused, Naruto blinks at him, uneasy hands stiffened by his neck and by his waist. “D-Doing what?” 

Taking a long inhale, he tries to push Naruto a little further away, but it doesn’t get the man too far, still kneeled between his thighs, hands falling by his sides. “This, idiot. Talking to me like that, and doing… that.” 

“Talking to you like what? And the blo—”

Sasuke flushes annoyedly, “You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I mean… I don’t. Why would I? Should I have not done _that?_ Whatever ‘that’ is. _”_

He nearly growls at the stupid answer, slapping the hand on his neck away and ripping the one on his waist off. “Let me go,” he snarls, leaning to the side as he starts to push to his feet.

“What the hell?” Naruto startles, and as he tries to run away, arms wrap around his waist. “What did I do?” 

“Do you do this with all your friends?” Sasuke spits out, pinching and scratching at Naruto’s skin, forcing him to let go. He faces Naruto once he finally manages to stand, feet wobbly, lower back slightly throbbing with how far they’d been pushed just a few hours ago. 

Naruto cries, looking up at him from the floor, nursing his arm. “This? Wh— why would I do that with them?”

“I don’t know. You’re an idiot who doesn’t think.” It’s a lie. Or so he hopes. He’s not going to accept an idiot that subconsciously pulls on his… ughk, _heartstrings,_ like this, always acting with his heart on his sleeve. 

When Naruto stands, he leaves no space for Sasuke to escape through the front door. He doesn’t want to admit the part of him that’s fighting to stay has gotten stronger. He glares, urging the idiot to say more. The itch for satisfaction; for something, continues to bother him for as long as… this. For as long as Naruto is being an utter dumbass. 

“They’re… they’re friends. I wouldn’t do that with a friend.” 

Baffled, Sasuke scoffs, crossing his arms. It hurts to say, but it is what it is, and he doesn’t bother to mask the bitter, apprehensive tone that’s mixed into it; “And _we_ aren’t friends? Like it should be any different.” 

Fuck— _fuck,_ now he’s just lying to himself. It’s a blatant lie that’s been proven wrong over and over and— 

Naruto takes a step closer, contemplation on his face. Then, his cheeks redden slightly. “But we _are._ You’ve always been an exception. You’ve always known that, I’m pretty sure.” 

“What the hell does that mean to you?” The anger within him simmers with his revitalized annoyance. “After your dumb, stupid letters…” _And everything else you’ve ever said,_ “Why did you do all this?” 

Naruto’s eyes widened. Sasuke’s eyes narrow. “Well, I thought we were…” 

He’s getting impatient, the childish urge to punt this idiot surging to the edge of his palms. “We were _what?”_

Naruto takes one, long stride towards him, and within a second Sasuke is engulfed in his arms. The blond burrows himself into his shoulder, and he resists the urge to smack this idiot in the head, trying to squirm himself out of the man’s grip. 

“What the hell, Naruto?”

“We’re friends, yep,” Naruto says, arms around Sasuke’s elbows, hands locked at his back. Sasuke’s hand claws at Naruto’s waist, waiting, not liking how quick Naruto’s demeanor changed. The throbbing by his temple syncs with how quick his heart was beating; pounding against his chest as blood rushed to his ears, so strong that there had to be something Naruto was feeling— _what the fuck was this bitch doing?_

“…I won’t hesitate to destroy this entire building, Naruto. Then you.” He growls. 

“No, no. You would definitely hesitate,” Naruto’s voice is a worried whisper. “You aren’t the type to do that. Always so nice, despite your lil face constantly looking mean.” 

“Don’t waste my time.” 

“But you have plenty of time. You said you’d stay for at least a week, right?” And they both know Naruto’s going to try and push it for longer, but he doesn’t say anything to incite that right now. 

Palm flat against Naruto’s waist, through the thin shirt, he grabs on, fingers digging into his side. Naruto’s hug on him only tightens, futile, but his grip doesn’t relent. Then, against his shoulder, sounding pained, the blond mutters, “…You kept my letters.” 

Scowling embarrassedly, “Don’t think anything of it.” 

“How can I not? I thought you’d just burn them. Hell, why bother keep them when your perfect ass has photographic memory?” 

“…”

“…”

“What.”

“Well, it’s cute, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t ever call me that again,” he snaps, chin digging into Naruto’s shoulder, the man squirming in discomfort. “And stop this before I make it two days.”

But Naruto doesn’t let go. “You’re a very important friend to me, Sasuke. That’s what I think.” 

Fingers clenched at Naruto’s shirt, he grits his teeth. _“What does that mean to you?”_ He’s nearly yelling, frustrated. “You think all of your friends are important. You said this before, too. You nearly died to me, because I’m your friend. Now you’re doing this, because I’m your friend.”

Finally, Naruto pulls back, but Sasuke now doesn’t want to pull away, worried for whatever look he has on his face right now. His hold on Naruto’s shirt doesn’t lighten, the fabric surely stretching. 

But two hands were an advantage when he only had one, and Naruto used them to coax him to tilt his head back. 

“I-I just… I didn’t think you were this bothered.” 

It’s difficult to maintain his gaze, blue eyes clear and glimmering under the gentle sunlight, staring at him with challenge. 

“I’m not,” he says, stupid. 

“When you finally sent me a letter,” Naruto begins, with every second Sasuke is struggling to keep looking. This was too close, almost exhaustingly visceral, but he’d done this a million times before, this closeness, and he can do it once more. “When I finally figured it out— I can’t believe you wrote a code, by the way, and Sakura refused to help me, too—” Naruto laughs, reddening with every breath, “—you have no idea how… how happy I was.

“Well, actually, I was surprised. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I couldn’t believe it, and it almost made me puke; how much I was thinking about it. I couldn’t focus with Kakashi or Tsunade, almost to the point they considered just sending me to the hospital. And you only said you missed me. Missed me!”

Naruto laughs, eyes blinking shut before he looks away first, hiding himself again into his shoulder. Sasuke is thankful, wondering if he would’ve been able to continue it any longer.

_…Maybe I’ll go pass by the village, if you manage to figure this out._

The memory of his writing, dark strokes that are fairly neat, deeper splotches of ink at the edges of each letter; unbalanced spread of liquid black as he tries to write on a piece of paper on his lap. 

“Heh. We’ve done this before, y’know? I nearly killed you, you nearly killed me, so I couldn’t understand what made it so different. You weren’t gone for three— five— years, you were only gone for a few months. But my thoughts were clearer, easier, even if it was a little painful, how far away you were. 

_But I don’t think you will, so I’ll send this, this once._

_I miss you, Usuratonkachi._

“And I still don’t know what it means, but I know that you’re still an important friend. A friend I definitely… _favor,”_ his voice is incredibly hushed, “And now that you’re here, I couldn’t help it. Y’know, that blowjob last night?” Sasuke grimaces at the word, even when the memory wasn’t unpleasant. “You really were _super_ hot, and that was just the cherry on top.

“I’unno,” Naruto chuckles, “Fuck you, asshole, you’re too good at this.”

Hand trailing up to Naruto’s shoulder, he tries to push away the contents of the letters he’d been given. Corny, corny words, solidifying even further what he’d thought of this blond idiot. _He_ was good at this? 

“Usuratonkachi,” he says. Naruto laughs. 

“You’re definitely more than a friend. That’s for sure. I just…” and Sasuke only hears it because the idiot’s right by his ear, “I didn’t think you felt the same, and it’s led to this, I couldn’t help myself, so I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Sasuke sighs, wallowing in the silence. He doesn’t want to think about it. His brain is in the verge of short-circuiting, heart threatening to jump out of his chest. He hopes Naruto’s is the same. It _had_ to be. 

Before he can think any more, his hand grasps at Naruto’s hair, yanking it back before smacking their lips together. Immediately, subconsciously, _naturally,_ Naruto parts his lips, and it’s not long before it begins to sound wet and desperate. 

This— this was way easier. How they mold into each other, how much better the pressure felt, how much he _wants_ it. It might be filled with unsaid words, things they’d have to clarify later amidst another stupid argument, but this was still better. 

Eventually, however, despite how easy this was, breathing was something even shinobi of their caliber needed, and they pulled from each other. He wants to keep his eyes shut, but Naruto’s eyes on him are too intense to ignore, and when his eyes flutter open, maybe he doesn’t regret it. 

“So,” Naruto smiles, slightly awkward, “Are you staying for longer?”

“Hn,” Sasuke smirks. His hand then skims down to Naruto’s crotch, cupping the thing, feeling it react, grow and heat up with every stroke. Naruto isn’t so subtle with pressing towards him, either. “The offer still stands.” 

“Of course, yeah,” Naruto lets out a shaky breath, “Then I’ll read another poem to you.” 

“Your poem wasn’t that bad.” 

“I have a better poem— _shit, fuck, that’s good—_ I-I was serious, by the way.” 

“I know.” 

“Just clarifying. You know how it is with you, all code-y and cryptic, making me work—” He adds more strength to his grip on Naruto’s crotch, fighting at the arms that try to pin him down. 

Then, leaning towards Naruto’s lips, he breathes, “Shut it, Usuratonkachi.” 

**Author's Note:**

> See you bitches play around with me too much. I will be 33 years old and still read fan fiction. I don’t give a fuck! Idc, idc babe!!!! Because there is nothing that brings me more… _Serenity…_ at a time of turmoil… Than Naruto topping Sasuke- 


End file.
